


The Truth

by faerierequiem



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8610979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerierequiem/pseuds/faerierequiem
Summary: When Noah slipped from time, there was nothing. A colorless void absent of consciousness and the concept of time itself. He’d been himself, Noah Czerny, and then nothing, and then he was Noah Czerny again, opening his eyes to find Ronan Lynch looking up at him with a grin on his face.





	

When Noah slipped from time, there was _nothing_. A colorless void absent of consciousness and the concept of time itself. He’d been himself, Noah Czerny, and then _nothing_ , and then he was Noah Czerny again, opening his eyes to find Ronan Lynch looking up at him with a grin on his face. Adam was away at college and Gansey and Blue away on a road trip with a Henry. It’d been only Ronan and him. They’d spent the days toying away at the Barns, Ronan showing him the dreaming he’d been doing and Noah remembering again what it felt like to be in the company of Ronan, to have fun, to be wild, to feel so alive that he almost forgot that he wasn’t.

He remembered the first time it happened. It’d been breakfast time. He was drowning Ronan’s waffles in syrup when—all of a sudden—he wasn’t anymore. There’d been Ronan sitting at the dining table, laughing, and the early morning sunshine coming through the window, and— _nothing_.

Then, he was himself again. Except that this time there was no Ronan Lynch grinning up at him when he opened his eyes. Instead, Noah found himself in a dark room. He could tell by the light that fell through a crack in the curtains that it was daytime, but the room was so dark he could not make out his surroundings. Before his eyes could adjust, Noah heard the sound of someone faintly muttering. “What am I doing wrong? What am I doing wrong?” The voice was insistent, desperate. Noah felt slightly afraid, mostly concern. He could see now, by the window, a person sitting in a chair, hunched over with their head in their hands. He hesitated. “Are you alright?”

The person stood up. “Noah?”

That was all Noah needed. “Hey, Ronan.”

Ronan ran towards him, stumbling along the way and bumping into a table. Noah was about to say something, but the words never left his mouth, because that was when Ronan’s arms wrapped around him and that was the moment Noah knew something had changed. They’d brushed shoulders, nudged each other, patted each other on the back, touched hands in gentler times, but never this, being hugged so tightly he could not move and pressed so closely that he could feel when Ronan inhaled and exhaled.

Noah knew there was only one question that needed to be asked. “How much time has passed?”

Four years. It’d been four years since that morning. Noah could still remember the way the syrup had glistened like liquid gold in the sunlight. To him, it felt like yesterday. It might as well have been yesterday, but when Ronan drew back the curtains and Noah saw the dark brown hair on Ronan’s head, he understood that it was not yesterday. Ronan had grown up, learned new things, collected new memories, and yet—Ronan took Noah’s hand in his and there was a smile on his face as he led Noah out of the room—Ronan had not forgotten about him.

It was different this time around. Neither of them acknowledged it out loud, but it was present in everything that they did: The fact that nothing could stay the same, that things would not go back to the way it had been before, that tomorrow was not a guarantee. Noah nearly forgot about it in the days that he got to see Blue and Gansey and met Henry. When he asked about Adam, the three looked at Ronan and Ronan answered, “We broke up.” Later on, when it was just the two of them at the Barns, under Noah’s insistent questioning, Ronan elaborated, “I broke up with him.”

“ _Why?_ ” Noah asked. He was tired over the lack of progress. It fed into the discomfort he felt over Adam’s absence. Without a reason, it was difficult to explain how the Ronan who had chattered about Adam with so much love and joy in his eyes became the Ronan who sat next to him now, face impassive as he gave out the news of the break-up like it was some fact about a mushroom.

Ronan replied, “I wasn’t being fair.”

Another clipped statement. Noah let out a frustrated sound. “Ronan, if you don’t want to talk about it, just say so. You don’t—”

Ronan kissed him. It was a kiss in the most innocent sense: the soft, simple press of lips. And yet Noah’s mind became a blank canvas. He couldn’t move. He had the answer in this kiss and from it hundreds of new questions blossomed, only to be swept away when he felt the slight movement of Ronan’s lips against his and then gone as Ronan pulled away.

If it’d been before, when he was a ghost controlled by the whims of the ley line, Noah would have disappeared, but now he was a ghost controlled by the whims of Ronan Lynch and forces that eluded the both of them, so instead he left the room and he cried.

They didn’t speak about the kiss. The next day Gansey came around, his oblivious enthusiasm making it easier to be normal and avoid the difference. The three of them spent the week coming up with ways to make Noah stay. Ronan explained ideas he’d tried and hadn’t yet, Gansey applied his decade of knowledge to the situation, and Noah offered all of the little that he knew.

After one of these brainstorming sessions, Gansey had left and Noah was alone with Ronan. Days and days of unspoken words weighed down on his shoulders as he watched Ronan organize the papers full of notes and theories.

“Ronan?”

“What is it?” Ronan’s voice was casual, but Noah caught the way his hands stilled when he said his name.

“I… I’ve been thinking about”—Noah gestured to the table of papers—“all of this. Maybe…” _Maybe it’s impossible._ “Maybe I’m not—” Noah slouched forward in his seat, nervously, and his elbows came to a rest on his knees. It was difficult. For some reason, the act of speaking the words made them heavier and they stacked up like deadweight on his tongue.

He could feel Ronan’s eyes on him, waiting for him to finish his sentence, but Noah didn’t. He couldn’t. He stared down at his hands. He heard the whispering of the papers as Ronan moved them about and the solid thump of the ends of a stack of paper against the table. After a moment, the sound seized altogether and Noah found himself closing his eyes against the silence.

“You’re not what?” Ronan prompted, and his voice was gentle and undemanding and hesitant. Despite himself, Noah was reminded of the kiss—how Ronan had been gentle and undemanding and hesitant then—and he found himself a new reason to close his eyes. Why were things like this? Why had a living boy with endless possibilities chosen him, a dead boy with no future? Why did Ronan not realize the soon-to-be regret and mistake that was Noah Czerny?

“Noah, do you not want to be here anymore?”

The question was like a shock to his system and Noah did not think. He reacted. He opened his eyes and sat up and was about to say that while he had been thinking many things, that had not been one of them, that it wasn’t like that, but then he was staring at Ronan and Ronan was staring back at him with wide eyes and Noah realized that he was crying.

He felt the temptation to run away, to leave the room, to flee the house and hide himself away in one of the barns, but he did not give in to it. He welcomed the stubbornness that kept him in his seat even when he began to sniffle and had to reach up a hand to wipe his nose.

Noah knew there was an unspoken barrier that kept Ronan from acting upon what he wished to do and that it was only Noah himself who could give the permission to break it down, but if he was going to do so, Ronan at least deserved the truth. Noah’s voice wobbled as he spoke. “We don’t know how this will end. Ronan, I might break your heart. Don’t throw it away.” _Don’t throw it away because of me._

For the first time since they’d locked eyes, Ronan looked away. His expression was unreadable—like he’d placed an iron mask over his emotions, but then Ronan let out a ragged breath and buried his face in his hands.

Noah was reliving the past. He was in the dark room, saw how the shadow of Ronan had looked so defeated, with his head in his hands, and the way Ronan had been muttering so desperately. Noah hated himself. How could he be so cruel, giving out the truth like it was something new and could be handled so easily? Ronan had been living with the truth for four years, and he had still chosen to bring Noah back.

Noah reached out a hand, but was stopped by the slight shaking of Ronan’s shoulders. He thought about withdrawing his hand, but no, he couldn’t. Not now when it was most important. Noah grabbed hold onto the last, remaining tendrils of his stubbornness and carefully took Ronan’s wrist in his hand. Ronan shifted his remaining hand over his eyes. He did not look up or ask Noah what he was doing, but he did not pull his wrist out from Noah’s hand. For this, Noah was relieved.

He pressed a soft kiss to Ronan’s palm. It was wet and salty with tears, and Noah faltered. The damage had been done. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to fix it, but even as he thought this, Noah found himself continuing. He gave each of Ronan’s fingers a kiss and paused only slightly before he began to lick Ronan’s palm. Ronan’s hand flinched underneath his tongue and Noah almost let go. He felt silly and awkward, but it did not stop him. Only Ronan could and he didn’t, so Noah was tentative and tender. If he could remove the tears from Ronan’s palm, maybe he could mend even a little bit of the sadness.

Ronan looked up at him and all that Noah wanted he could see reflected back at him in Ronan’s blue eyes.

He smiled a small smile. This was the only apology he could offer.

That was when the second time happened. _Nothing_ was but a blink of an eye and then Noah was staring at Ronan. He had a five o’clock shadow on his face that hadn’t been there before and his hair was unruly and longer. They were not inside, but outside. There were rolling green hills around them and past Ronan’s left shoulder was a lavender barn. Noah was immediately aware of the disconnect of time. He still lingered in a previous moment that had happened to the Ronan before him however long ago. Something in his chest ached at the thought—and then Ronan hugged him.

Into his ear, Ronan was saying, “Do you want to go back to licking my hand?”

Noah let out a laugh. He didn’t know rather to be embarrassed or relieved or sad, but he hugged Ronan back and buried his face into his neck. “How long has it been?”

Ronan shook his head and his arms tightened around Noah. “Does that matter? You’re back, Noah. You’re back.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you tumblr, check out the fic here: http://faerielament.tumblr.com/post/153440425341/the-raven-cycle-the-truth ~ and reblog/like!


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